


Demons

by CelestialSilences



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anxiety, F/F, Ford is only mentioned, Kind of AU: The twins are older, Lots of demon battles, M/M, Mabel is mildly manic-depressive, Magic, Romance, Tagging is hard so there'll be more as the story progresses, everyone's of age, the OCs are mostly villans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7821037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialSilences/pseuds/CelestialSilences
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are thousands of demons, cast across the universe to do their own chaotic bidding. With time, however, many demons changed from plagues and poverty to nightmares and stress to create terror on earth. A few, however, don't want simply to terrify the human race. They want to rule it. </p><p>Dipper and Mabel are on summer break, spending their days peacefully running the shack and investigating the supernatural together before they return to college. When the threat of their entire world becoming enslaved to demons arises, they're forced to join up with some people they don't particularly like (or know) to save the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The sun was setting, creating a patchwork of reds and yellows shot through with purple in the sky, with blue slowly sinking into black as a canvas. Dipper stared out the window imploringly, wishing he could see it without a layer of glass to block his view. It had been an exhausting day at the Mystery Shack, and with Wendy visiting with extended family in Illinois he had been stuck with the job of cashier. Along with cleanup crew, security guard, and pretty much anything else his grunkle Stan wanted him to do. 

Stan had been getting on in years, and had eventually retired after collapsing on the job from stress. He unceremoniously dumped all of his own responsibilities on Dipper, not seeming to care that he would be going off to college in a year’s time. He was pulled away from the allure of the sunset by the Shack’s door opening and the old bell giving a halfhearted attempt at a chime. A man walked in, face partially obscured by a dark gray hoodie. 

He turned and nodded at Dipper, a simple jerk of the head, and that was all he needed for alarm bells to start ringing in his head. The man looked ordinary enough, light brown hair tousled to the right in an attempt at creating the windblown look that was in style, and he appeared to be no older than 20 or so. The only part about him that gave Dipper pause was his eyes. He kept them mostly averted, a classic sign of shadiness, but they seemed pitch black and almost insect like, in a way he knew eyes never should be. His hand carefully edged towards the fire axe they had kept under the counter ever since Robbie had tried sticking up the Shack a few years ago. 

He kept his eyes trained fully on the stranger. Stan was probably so immersed in the TV a bomb going off wouldn’t rouse him, and he knew Mabel was out with her friends. He was alone, then. A prick of anxiety nestled itself into his heart, along with the familiar self-doubt he’d never really learnt how to ignore. Dipper shoved it all aside as best as he could and narrowed his eyes when the stranger turned his back to him, appearing to shrink into his hoodie. One hand found the fire axe and gripped it tightly. He inhaled deeply, and time seemed to slow for an instant. 

Then the man moved and so did he, a perfectly synchronized action and reaction. The man pulled out a gun while he yanked out the fire axe, almost falling over under its weight. The man gave a mirthless smile, training the gun on the space directly between Dipper’s eyes. He gulped. Looking at his eyes, Dipper was startled to find that they were a deep, shiny black not unlike that of an ant. 

There was no iris or pupil, just the black that somehow generated a deep and profound fear in his gut. Was it the light, or did his teeth just seem a little too sharp? His heart started to pound, the anxiety he’d shoved away coming back full force. There was no way the man-or thing, his mind supplied- was human. That implied that it was supernatural. But in his seven years of exploring the boundless woods in the Falls, Dipper had never seen eyes like that.  
There was a silence between the two as Dipper raced to identify the thing. Then it hissed and stepped forward a pace. He’d almost wished the thing had yelled, to reassure the feeble hope he had that it was maybe just the tiniest bit human. But no, the hiss that had come out of its mouth was unintelligible and alien in nature. It stepped forward again, without the hiss, and raised the pistol in a poor mockery of how Dipper was holding his axe. Is that how it thinks all weapons are used? He mused. 

Inexperience would make it a fairer fight, as the only thing Dipper could use the axe for was chopping firewood (and he was still terrible at that), but the thing-he really needed to give it a title- could have some sort of strength or power he’d never seen. His mind frantically tried to recall pages of the journals, the things Ford had told him, anything- but to no avail. 

He’d never seen eyes like that, nor heard of them. He was fighting an unknown enemy. His worst fear. A tiny part of him prayed this was all a nightmare. The rest of him knew it wasn’t true. 

He began to hyperventilate, body trembling as the thing still stepped closer. Its smile had changed from fake to vicious. His mind became a scattered mess, unable to sync his breathing and his heartbeat, and his thoughts became erratic and terrified and oh god oh god I’m going to die right here what’s it going to do to me oh god somebody help me please just let me wake up and don’t let me die I still have Mabel and Stan and- The thing swung at him with the pistol. Without his permission or thought, his arm swung up to deflect the blow and knocked the pistol across the room. 

The thing hissed and clicked-how did it click and oh my god what am I even doing how am I doing this what the literal fuck- and then lunged for him. His arm hefted the axe, finding some sort of strength, and he watched. In slow motion, the thing sailed towards him, and his arm moved neatly forward to decapitate it. Its motion was cut off almost instantly by the fact that its nervous system was effectively ruined, and its body slammed into the counter and hung over it limply. 

Dipper dropped the axe, suddenly able to actually control his own actions, and sank to the floor. His mind filled with so many thoughts and so many emotions he couldn’t concentrate on any of them, instead clutching his head and losing sense of everything. He screamed in his head, and a shrill sound echoed across the room that he didn’t believe was Dipper anymore. Nothing was Dipper anymore. His own fear and raging thoughts had swallowed him up and left nothing behind but a shaking, terrified shell. He shifted his hands from his head to his face and found that his cheeks were wet. Had he cried? He didn’t know anymore. He knew nothing anymore. Eventually, he stopped thinking, feeling, being, and the last thing he thought of was a light, soothing shade of gold enveloping his consciousness before he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody and welcome to Demons!  
> This is my first published work on Ao3, so please don't be too mean if it's terrible ^-^"  
> I plan to update weekly/biweekly, but with school starting it may be difficult to keep up with. Please feel free to point any errors of fluency or spelling, as this is unbeta'd until I can find one.
> 
> Speaking of which, if you want to be my beta, and would be willing to explain to me the finer points of Ao3, please let me know!


	2. Chapter One

Dipper opened his eyes slowly, head pounding, to Mabel’s face right up in his own. The first thing he heard was Stan’s voice saying, “Well, you sure caused a lot of trouble, kid,” which disoriented Dipper’s hazy mind for a moment until he could separate who was who in his head. The moment Mabel realized his eyes had opened, she screamed (that did not help his headache) and pulled him into a bear hug that almost choked him. “Dipper, you’re okay!” she cried as she buried her face into his chest. She sounded close to tears, and a pang of guilt struck him. What had happened? 

He opened his mouth to speak, and instead made an ugly croaking sound. He swallowed thickly, did his best to clear his throat and tried again. “H-how long was I out?” he asked. Mabel released him from her hug long enough to exclaim, “A good three hours, oh gosh Dip, you had me so worried-“ before she had buried her face back in his shirt and was hugging him tightly again. 

Stan, seeing his niece was incapacitated, spoke up. “I found you in here about twenty minutes after closing with a goddamned body laying over the counter-“ Mabel made a noise when he cursed, she never did condone profanity- “and then you were just there behind the counter curled up and passed out with tears on your face. There was a head right next to you-I’d like to keep that by the way-and you had that axe in your hand with blood all over it.” Stan paused. “How’d you even lift that, by the way? It weighs a good thirty pounds and you’ve never been able to do that before.” It took Dipper few seconds to realize he was even being asked a question, so he replied with a simple shrug. He tried to sit up, and even without Mabel hanging onto him it would have been a mistake. His whole body ached, and he felt like every ounce of energy in him had been sapped from him. But how? Panic attacks never left him feeling that way, and the axe thing shouldn’t have left him that tired. Chalking it up to some kind of trauma, Dipper carefully peeled Mabel off of him and unsteadily rose to his feet. 

With every movement he made, he help back a wince. Stan eyed him uncertainly. “You sure you should be standing, kid?” he asked. Dipper waved him off, feeling to tired to speak, and slowly descended the stairs up to the attic room he called his. Mabel darted up the stars after him, hovering behind him in case he needed help. He felt a wave of gratitude towards his sister, knowing he would have to let her use him as a model for another clothing line of hers – “the mannequins just aren’t the same”- or let her do some other girly thing to him as punishment. He reached the top of the stairs without incident, and after grunting something that could have been a good night to Mabel he pushed open the door to his room and collapsed into his bed. Or tried to, anyway. He somehow misjudged the distance and ended up with half of his body on the bed, with his lower half slumped on the ground. Just like the body. Dipper shuddered and pushed the thought away forcefully. He used the last of his strength to fall onto his bed and was out in seconds. 

 

The next morning, Dipper got up wide awake and with no trace of his previous exhaustion. It was odd, but he was pleased that he wouldn’t have to shuffle around like a zombie for once. Dipper was used to generally functioning on four or less hours of sleep, so finding out that he had slept for almost twelve hours was a blessing. He headed downstairs, certain Mabel would be up already, and walked into the kitchen. 

Stan was nursing a mug of coffee, but Mabel was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s-“ he started, but Stan cut him off. “She’s in her room, told me to make you go there after you ate,” he said curtly. Dipper nodded, used to his Grunkle’s morning grumpiness. Noting there were pancakes on the stove, he took two and sat down to eat. Dipper had stopped eating butter after he’d learnt what was in I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! Products, and that was the only thing Stan would buy. He did douse his pancakes in syrup, however, and wolfed them down as fast as he could. 

Mabel was the most impatient person he knew, and he didn’t want to hear a ridiculous lecture riddled with hyperboles about how long she had to wait. When he’d eaten his breakfast, he hurried back upstairs and knocked on Mabel’s door. The two of them had moved apart by their second summer, realizing as they grew up it was no longer proper to change in front of each other or sleep in the same room. She called out a cheery “come in!” and Dipper entered. Her room was a startling place, full of color and antiques mixed with modern to create a style that, clashy as it seemed to him, was almost more Mabel than the girl herself. 

The walls displayed more poster than actual wall, containing everything from Several TimeZ (which she’d grown out of years ago) to memorial pictures of Waddles, blown up to poster size (natural causes, but Mabel still insisted there was an evil plot involved) to pictures of her and old dates nestled in between. Mabel was looking out the window, wearing her favorite hot pink sweater dress with beat up black converse. Her waist-length, wavy brown hair was pulled back with a matching headband. Upon his entering, she smiled at him. 

“Dipper!” she scolded immediately, an easy grin lighting up her face despite her serious tone. “You didn’t even bother to change!” Looking down at himself self-consciously, he realized that he hadn’t bothered to change out of the simple navy blue shirt he’d worn the day before, and his sleep had left it wrinkled and dirty looking. “Um, I guess I did, haha,” he said sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, and Mabel looked at him with an exasperated fondness. “Anyway, he continued, “What’s with all the mysteriousness?” 

Mabel giggled, waving her hand slightly. “Oh, that,” she laughed. “Just messing with ya.” The smile on her face dampened into something more serious.” But Grunkle Stan’s gonna bury that body later and I was thinking we should check it out first.” She plopped down on her bed and awaited his reply. Dipper stilled, considering. 

Did he really want to see that body again? It had given him a panic attack last time, but it was dead now, so maybe it would be fine? He shook his head slightly. He loathed making decisions like this; he never could predict his own emotions. “Sure, but- can you maybe come with me?” he asked, hating that note of uncertainty in his voice. How could he be the protector of his family if he couldn’t even sound confident? Mabel, using her so-called “twin telepathy” picked up on his emotions and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be with you the whole time, bro-bro,” she promised. “I’ll kick the scary monster to death if he tries anything!” 

“He’s already dead,” he reminded her, a note of fondness in his voice.

“Don’t care. I’ll kick him anyway!” she cheered, and he could do little more than smile, grateful for her support. 

“Kids! Get down here, the shack opens in five minutes!” Stan called. Mabel groaned, cheer wilting. “We have to work todaayy?” she whined. “Ugh, why won’t Stan ever close the shack? We need a break once in a while too!” She continued, but Dipper heard it from faraway, like she was speaking underwater. The Shack. Meaning he would be cashier again. And all day, he’d have to look at, to touch, that same place where that thing had been. He felt the stirrings of another panic attack on the rise and that scared him even more. He was going to pass out again, going to lose another three hours and maybe they would send him back to that psychiatrist that- “Dipper? Are you okay?” 

Mabel’s voice cut through his panic and his breathing slowed slightly. The worry and terror in her eyes made something small and precious die inside of him. Mabel should never have to worry about him like that. “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he managed. She shot him an “I don’t believe you one bit” look that she usually saved for when he got an injury in the woods and lied about how, but her eyes softened a moment later “I can stay down there today, have Stan do the tours. He’s been asking to anyway,” she offered, and even though Dipper knew it was bullshit because Mabel loved doing those tours, he still nodded slightly. “Thank you.” 

“Not an issue, Dip-dop!” she said, before waltzing down the stairs, muttering excitedly about all of the people she could meet and talk to that day. Dipper followed a little slower, not caring that he was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and he reached his spot at the checkout counter right as the doors opened. He did everything in his power to avoid looking at the spot the body had been.

Things had been normal all morning. Mabel had done what she was best at, meaning she chatted up customers and got to know them, all the while showing them the best souvenirs to purchase and occasionally marking up or down prices. Dipper had just sat at the counter, being quiet. His mind was constantly trying to avoid panic and puzzle out just what that thing from yesterday was. Another bus of tourists came in around lunchtime, the bell ringing several times, and Dipper didn’t even bother to glance up.

Quiet, money-wasting idiots were all they were in his opinion. Wait, quiet? He glanced upward from his musings at the group. A good ten people, all totally silent. That’s not right…he thought with confusion, fear creeping in. 

Tourists were almost always loud and annoying, and even if there was a quiet one or two on occasion, there was never an entire bus full of people who didn’t talk to each other. Dread began to pool in his stomach. The one looked at him, and his heart dropped into his stomach so fast he felt sick. He inhaled sharply, eyes frozen on the person. It was your average, middle-aged woman, but she had the exact same eyes as the man from before.

Dipper started to sweat. What was he going to do? Was there more than one of these things? What was going on? The woman-thing still hadn’t broken his gaze, and now another one of the busgoers turned around. It was a small child, maybe seven or so, and it had those horrible, shiny black pits for eyes. He started hyperventilating quietly, and slowly, one by one, every single person that had been on that bus turned to him. And they all had the same eyes. Dipper was so scared he froze. Couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe, only stare at the things that were straight out of a nightmare, how what why-the Shack’s bathroom door opened suddenly and Mabel stepped out, then saw his frozen form. 

“Dipper?” she said slowly. “What’s wrong?” 

Carefully, he motioned her over, and she slowly went over behind the counter. “Look at them,” he breathed. “Aren’t they-“   
“What are you talking about, Dip?” she asked in a louder tone. “They’re just custom-“ She froze along with him. “Holy fuck,” she murmured, breaking her own language rule. “What do we do?” That was the problem, Dipper realized. He didn’t know. He just stared at the things that still hadn’t broken eye contact with him, some kind of an unspoken challenge between them. Then one, the child of all things, hissed at them and created the most guttural and evil sound he’d ever heard. It tore into his soul and just made him want to run, to hide, and yet- 

“Alright everybody, the Shack is closed for the day!” Mabel called out loudly. The few normal human customers left in the Shack muttered complaints, but it worked. They headed towards the door. The things, seeming to realize that they were supposed to be leaving, slowly dispersed. They never stopped staring at Dipper. Once the last of them was out the door and the twins were alone once more, Mabel sprang into action. She locked every door, every window, and even shut all of the blinds for good measure. 

Then she returned to her brother, who was still frozen. “Dipper, they’re gone now,” she said soothingly. Slowly, Dipper felt his muscles start to unfreeze and he began to relax. He knew the protection spells Ford, and eventually Dipper himself, put around the place would prevent break-ins. But those things… He did a controlled faceplant into the counter, then mumbled, “What the hell’s going on?” 

 

“Exactly what I wanted to know,” Stan said, stalking into the room. He shot a glare at the twins that went unnoticed by Dipper but caused Mabel to shrink back. “Where the hell are all the customers?!” Stan demanded angrily. Mabel awkwardly spoke up; desperately hoping Dipper would come out of his trance and help. An angry Stan was a scary Stan. “So-funny story really- remember that body last night? Well, -“   
“Please don’t tell me that someone saw the body,” Stan interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Now we’ll have the cops on us and that’ll be such a hassle-“  
“That isn’t what happened,” Dipper interjected, voice a little shaky. “The people that came in had the same eyes as the body.” Stan looked at them with a disbelieving gaze before turning away. “Fine, then figure out a way to keep them out,” He said with finality.  
“But Grunkle Stan-“  
“You have until Monday.”  
“But that’s only three-“  
“Monday.”  
The door slammed and Stan was gone. 

What are we going to do, Dipper?” Mabel cried worriedly. She ran a nervous hand through her bushy hair. “If we don’t fix this, Stan might make us move back home!” Dipper scoffed, trying to sound confident, but inside he was just as worried as his twin. “We’ve lived here for three years now. Stan couldn’t throw us out.” The two had lived there since their second summer, mostly at Dipper’s urging, to live at the Shack and continue school at Gravity Falls High. They had never been happier, Mabel because she could stay with her friends, and Dipper because he could continue to explore things with Ford. Both of them considered Gravity Falls more of a home than their real one. He thought for a moment, unsure of what to do, then an idea came to him. “I think”, he said slowly, a plan coming to mind, “we need to take a look at that body.” 

The trip down the basement was quiet. Both twins were absorbed in their individual thoughts. Dipper, to distract himself from the anxiety that still rippled in his chest, thought of Ford. He had died less than a year ago from a series of strokes that left him incapacitated for over a month before it finally killed him. He’d left Dipper everything supernatural that he’d ever owned, but Dipper knew Ford had known far more then he’d ever written down or shared. Ford would have known exactly what to do. He sighed mentally, sorrow starting to wash away the anxiety that still lingered. He really missed Ford. After Ford had died, Stan had never been the same. He’d thrown himself into the shack like never before, paying less attention to the twins and more to the TV. Even when he couldn’t run the shack himself anymore, Stan still ruled with an iron fist. Anything less than his impossibly high work standards was punishable. And on top of that, Dipper’s explorations into the woods were never the same. Ford had been a wealth of knowledge just waiting to be tapped, and he could answer any question Dipper had. 

The two reached the bottom of the stairs and Dipper distanced himself from his thoughts, trying to focus on the task at hand. Mabel pushed open the door where the portal had been all those years ago, and made a gesture towards a folding table that had been set in the center of the room. “There he is. Or is it an It? Does it matter? What’s the difference? Hmmm…” Mabel rambled, gradually descending into mutters. Catching up to her, he put a comforting hand on her shoulder, knowing she tended to babble when she got nervous. The twins approached the body, a deafening silence swallowing all but their own thoughts. When Dipper got close enough to see the body in detail, he gasped slightly. The room was dimly lit and the dark walls made it hard to see, but he knew the black in the man’s blood vessels wasn’t a trick of his eyes. 

Cautiously, he touched one of the veins in his severed neck, trying not to shudder, and was rewarded with an intense pain that centered around his index and middle fingertips. He yelped and snatched his hand away, and was shocked to find out that his fingertips were black.

He moved them slowly, and found that he could feel no sensation other then sharp twinges of pain. “The hell,” he exclaimed then showed a curious Mabel what had happened. She winced, then considered for a moment. “You still know nothing about this, Dip-dop?” He shook his head sadly, upset at his own inability to figure anything out. “It could be a disease, some parasite…” he trailed off, knowing his ideas were weak at best. Mabel slammed her fist onto her open palm, before saying with conviction, “Then we need someone who does know.” He shot her an exasperated look. “But Mabel, Ford is gone and there’s no one else who knows anything about supernatural stuff like this.” 

“What about Stan?” she suggested.  
“Mabel, if Stan knew anything, you know he’d be down here with us. He’d do anything to help his business.”  
“Fine.” Mabel pouted. “Hey, what about…” She chewed her lip and looked at him considering.   
That made Dipper worry. If she didn’t immediately state the idea, he knew it meant Mabel was about to say something risky. 

“What about… him?” The words were out, and Dipper felt another wave of that ever-present anxiety overtake him. He knew instantly who she meant. Shaking his head vehemently he let out a forceful “NO. NO. NO. Mabes, we promised. Never again.”   
“I know but,” she but her lip harder and stared at the floor, “he would know what’s happening.” Dipper could see quite clearly the logic in her statements, but she didn’t understand -could never understand, no matter how much she tried to- what had happened the last time. “Please, Dipper,” she said, puppy dog eyes boring into his.   
“No,” he snapped, sudden anger taking over. She couldn’t understand, but he was going to try and make her. “Remember the last time? Remember? When you begged me to do it and I agreed and then I had to take the fall to protect you, and now I can barely even go outside the Shack without hyperventilating? I know it doesn’t apply to you because you’ve been so happy ever since, but can you try to see it from my point of view? He ruined my life. And you expect me to do that again? Why don’t you even-“ he broke off his rant when tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over. 

“Dipper,” she said, broken voice barely above a whisper, “I would have done it then, and I’ll do it now. I never want to see you in pain.” She sniffed slightly, face red. “If you don’t want to do it, I’ll go look for another option.” She slowly started going up the stairs, leaving pitiful noises in her wake. “Wait!” he called, phantom anger vanishing. He heard Mabel’s steps pause, and he took the chance. “We can try it,” he called, regretting his words already. “And I’m sorry.” Mabel bounded down the stairs, all evidence of her tears gone except a little red on her face. “Really?” she exclaimed, smile returning. “You mean it?” he groaned audibly. “Yes.”

“Yay!” she cheered at a decibel that practically made his ears bleed. “Let’s go then!” Dipper rolled his eyes but followed her back up the stairs. She left ahead of him, presumably to go grab the Journal, and Dipper glanced down at his fingers. The black area was growing. He flexed his fingers and still felt nothing. Maybe Mabel’s idea isn’t so bad, he mused. He knew that they wouldn’t be hurt physically, but emotionally was another story. “Dipper! You coming?” Mabel called, likely at the door already. 

He moved a little faster, even daring to take the steps two at a time. When he reached to door, he was greeted by Mabel with the Journal in her hand and an excited puppy expression on her face. “Come on!” she exclaimed, taking his wrist and dragging him out the door. “Adventure!” With a sigh, Dipper broke into a jog to keep up with his overly excited sister. “Let’s go summon a demon! Yay!” he said sarcastically, and shot Mabel a bemused look when she cheered along with him. 

The twins reached the woods without incident, which was something of a miracle considering Mabel started to sing songs around halfway there. Between her (admittedly horrible) singing and Dipper’s attempted vigilance in looking for threats, he arrived at the clearing with quite a headache. The clearing was the place they had always went for summoning things, knowing it was hard to find and a safe distance from the rest of the shack. The traces of other summoning circles still left fain imprints in the soil, and Dipper kicked some dirt over the freshest ones to ensure they wouldn’t mess up the circle. 

Carefully, he took a long stick from the forest floor, sharpened it against a tree, then began to draw the circle. He had to destroy pieces of it several times in order to ensure it was perfect. The last time he’d messed up a summoning circle it had called something far more dangerous than he had intended, almost killing him and destroying the woods in the process. Upon completing the circle, he stood in front of the appropriate image on the circle (a simple stick figure human) he began to chant in Latin.   
“tenebrae , in auxilium meum contra me fines . Malo, nam hic meus amicus. Afferte mihi somnia coaequalis daemonis . Pretium meam et ut redimeret . Veniat ad me voca nomen eius in sanguinem , quaerenti spe auxilium dabit . Ut hoc propositum meum sperans superesset faciam dolore meo.” 

His voice, though it trembled slightly, came through clearly and far louder than the rushing wind around them. 

He paused as the world seemed to lose some of its color and everything seemed to slow. 

“veni ad me, Cipher, adiuva me, Cipher, veni ad me!” 

He raised the journal high above his head, and everything around him faded to the dull black and white of the Mindscape. The chirping of birds was cut off abruptly, and the thunder-like noise of planes passing overhead was silenced. He set down the journal with a sigh, before slumping over headfirst. The summoning had been far more exhausting than any he’d done in the past. There was silence, for a moment, until Mabel let out a slight gasp. He snapped his head up, hair ungracefully flying back, and found himself face to face with the triangular form of Bill Cipher. 

“Hello, Pine Tree!” he exclaimed cheerfully, like they were two friends meeting each other on the street. “How have you been?”

 

Dipper vomited. He managed to turn his head to the side so he didn’t cover Bill with it, but Bill still made a loud and disgusted noise. “Are meatsacks like you supposed to do that?” he asked, presumably to Mabel. Anything after that faded out as Dipper began to experience the worst anxiety attack he’d had in over a year. His mind stopped processing individual thoughts, his heart beat so fast he couldn’t feel it, and he hadn’t stopped vomiting. Or was it retching at that point? His mind didn’t, couldn’t care; the only thing he could process was the absolute and total fear that was like a tidal wave that never stopped crashing over him. Oh my god I knew this was a bad idea why did we do this and oh god Bill he’s here he could kill me kill all of us destroy my mind wait he already is but still he could hurt Mabel and please someone help- he choked, most likely on bile, and his thoughts went empty for a moment as he struggled for air.

Outside of Dipper’s panic-overrun mind, Mabel was shooting an equal number of worried looks towards Dipper and daggers at Bill. When she finally spoke, she tried to say “What’s wrong with Dipper?” and “Fix him now.” The resulting sentence came out as “What’s fix Dipper wrong now?” Bill shot her the best confused glance a floating Dorito could, and she flushed slightly and tried again. “Whatever you did to him, Bill, fix it.” She said with a surprising amount of venom. “Can’t, Star,” he said casually. “It’s his own reaction. I didn’t make him throw up and do… that.”   
Mabel glared. “Then…stop his anxiety, I don’t know!” she barked with frustration. “You have to do something!”   
Bill did a triangle equivalent of a sneer. “I don’t have to do anything. But since you went through all this trouble to summon me, I’ll temporarily end it.” He clicked his fingers. “Happy?” 

Dipper, within his panic-strewn mind, had no idea what was going on outside of it. All he knew was after a while, a golden light seemed to blanket his mind, and with its presence his fear faded. He opened his eyes, not realizing they were closed in the first place, and slowly moved his head upward. Then he came face to face with Bill Cipher. Oddly enough, there was no fear that time, just old anger and a nothingness that he wasn’t entirely sure was natural. “Dipper,” Mabel said tentatively, and he turned around to face her, “Are you alright?” He nodded slightly, and she visibly relaxed. “Good. Bill did something to your anxiety, and-“ he whirled around and glared at Bill. “What did you do to me,” he said dangerously, words to an easy exorcism coming to the forefront of his mind. Bill put his hands up in a surrender gesture, then laughed. “Nothing, Pine Tree! Just… put your anxiety on hold for a while. You can thank me later.” Bill floated higher slightly, before putting his hands behind his head in a relaxed position. “So what do you two want? You must be desperate to summon me of all demons!” he laughed again, an ugly thing that Dipper knew was as fake as the eye patch Stan still hung onto. He shot a look at Mabel, and she replied with a look of encouragement. “Something weird happened at the Shack today, and, well… we need your help.” Bill laughed again, and Dipper winced at the sound. If madness was a sound, that would be it, he thought to himself before continuing. “Um, we can show you the body if you want…” he trailed off as Bill cackled and rubbed his hands together. “Oooh, a body! I knew I kept tabs on you for a reason!” Then his expression dropped its mirth and he offered casually, “I could just look in your mind for it, little Tree. Quick and painless.” Dipper thought for a moment, warning bells going off in his head, but he jerked a nod anyway. “Fine. But make it quick.” Bill nodded, single eye crinkling in delight. “This’ll be so much fun!” The he snapped his fingers, and Dipper was suddenly in some of the worst pain he’d ever experienced. It was worse than the time he’d stumbled across a colony of birds whose cries gave humans migraines. It felt like someone was ripping his head apart, destroying him from the inside out. Just like two years ago, he managed to think, thoughts strangely distant from the pain, and suddenly he was so deep in a flashback it might as well have been his reality. 

The twins were fifteen, and so deep in puberty that they couldn’t imagine a time before or after. Mabel had grown tall and lanky, hips and shoulders she had yet to grow into jutting out and making her look anorexic. Dipper’s voice was so unreliable he tried not to talk whenever possible, and his face was covered in acne. The two were happy, however, growing up and becoming adults side by side, until the nightmares had started. From simple jumpscares to private showings of their worst fears, the nightmares varied in content but always made them wake up in terror. The two tried to work past it, but when Mabel started having the sleep-deprived equivalent to narcolepsy, and Dipper’s grades started to drop-a sure sign there was something wrong- they took action and summoned the only dream demon they knew. It had been Bill behind it, as Dipper had guessed, and although he showed no remorse for his actions he offered the Pines twins a way out. “I’ll stop giving you nightmares, in exchange for… Dipper’s anxiety!” he’d said, and at the time some foolish naïve hope inside of him that Bill wanted to use it to scare people.   
Dipper had been dead wrong. 

Instead, Dipper had gone back to work like nothing happened, content with the best night of sleep he’d had in months until the first busload of tourists had come in. Rather than seeing them as compulsive idiots, he saw them as judging him, laughing at him, making fun of him and he would mess up somehow and they would jeer and boo and tell him to kill himself and- it had been weeks before he could leave his room again, and even then just looking in the direction of the shop gave him nausea. It had taken two months before he could work again (much to Stan’s displeasure) and even then Mabel had to be with him at all times. It took another six months for him to be able to work without Mabel glued to his side. By the end of the first year, he was sixteen and able to put up with working and school without complaint. Then Ford died and it had all started again. He stayed up in his room for long hours, grieving, then panicked over the foolish notion that he was wasting his life away. So he went out in the woods, then panicked about dying there, cold and alone. The cycle had lasted for three months until things had settled down slightly. Afterwards, his life calmed down a bit, and the panic attacks stopped coming as frequently. He could still have attacks over anything he was even mildly afraid of, but in his day-to-day life, things were mostly normal. He still looked for new things in the woods, although almost nothing could surprise him any longer, and he worked, as bored as ever once he realized that the tourists only saw him as a breathing extension of the cash register. It was all ordinary –by Gravity Falls standards at least- until the body showed up. 

Thinking of the body snapped Dipper out of his flashback and into another minor attack that he quickly quieted within his mind. It also seemed to give Bill what he needed, and the pain sharply retreated from his mind and gave way to the sensation of a net being dragged along the top of his thoughts. He did his best to think of everything relating to the body and the black eyes whole trying not to think of it in detail, and the sensation stopped quickly enough. When he opened his eyes and found he could move again, he snapped, “Bill, you…you shit! You said there would be no pain!” Bill shrugged amicably. “Well, there was no lasting pain, so you’re good, right? Right.” 

“But I didn’t expect that.” Dipper sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ignoring the fact that you essentially just assaulted my mind-“  
“Don’t forget that you asked me to, little Tree~”  
“What can you tell us?” he continued tiredly, as the pain eased. Mabel spoke up then, coming to stand near her brother. “And don’t try to go in our minds again!” Bill rolled his eye.   
“If you two want so much from me, then we’re going to have to make a deal. I don’t work for free, you know.”   
Dipper sighed, having known this was coming. “What are your terms?”   
“Well, your anxiety was very entertaining to control last time-  
“NO.”  
“Aw, you’re no fun Pine Tree.”  
“And somehow I can live with you saying that to me.”  
Mabel stood between them suddenly, a small, playful smirk on her face. “Can you two lovebirds cut it out?”

Dipper sputtered, face going an alarming shade of red. “What the hell, Mabel?!”  
“language,” she chided, and his face turned and even deeper red as anger combined with embarrassment. In a distant corner of his mind, he was jealous of her skill at laughing in the face of fear, but he shoved the thought away.

Bill, in the background, was laughing a much more genuine laugh than before.   
“That’s total bullshit and you know it!” Mabel laughed, the bell-like noise echoing across the otherwise silent clearing. “Yeah, but your face!” Dipper glowered, before clearing his throat loudly. “Can we get back the conversation about the important things?”  
Mabel rolled her eyes and turned back to the conversation, but every time she looked him in the eyes she snickered softly. Bill, on the other hand, didn’t stop laughing until both the twins were staring at him with mildly disturbed expressions. 

“Shouldn’t he have had to breathe by now?” Mabel whispered. Bill starting laughing harder at her suggestion, punctuating it with the gasped out sentence, “I’m not human, Star! Don’t need to breathe!” Dipper glowered at him for a moment, before snapping, “Bill, stop.” He obliged, oddly enough, clearing his throat and looking at them expectantly. “Tell me your terms and then we’ll go over mine,” he prompted with a patronizing air that made Dipper’s blood boil. Dipper sighed. “Tell us what you know about…whatever all this is, and we’ll give you…” he paused and gestured for Bill to speak. 

“Well, since you nixed the anxiety thing, and your souls are no longer interesting to me… how about…” Bill paused, before snapping his fingers. A very real light bulb appeared above his head, making Mabel snort quietly. Dipper found no humor in it, as he was too busy thinking of ways to refute whatever thing Bill asked for. Anything that would destroy the Falls was off the list, and anything to help Bill take over the dimension was the same. Ditto for anything that had once belonged to Ford. He had a good dozen arguments ready by the time Bill was done thinking, but nothing could prepare him for what Bill said next. 

 

“I want a human body, Pine Tree. And you’re going to make it for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter one, hope you enjoy!  
> This was posted immediately after the prologue, but I'm out of pre-written stuff so don't expect updates to be dual all the time. 
> 
> Please feel free to point out any and all spelling/fluency mistakes, or if I messed up anything with the characters.


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